And Bob, lolling back, watched the house-boat’s lights growing brighter with great satisfaction.
“Hello, fellows!” he yelled, with all the strength of his lusty lungs; and a chorus of voices immediately answered from the distance.
In a short time, the “Gray Gull” loomed up close at hand, and a loud cheer arose when the eager boys saw Bob and his companion safe and sound. The pulsation of the engine ceased, and the house-boat came to a stop. Then the two were helped aboard, while Confuse-us, alarmed at the noise, fled in terror to the darkest corner.
Mutual explanations and introductions followed.
“What was the matter with the engine?” asked Bob.
“Nothing. The supply of gasoline gave out, and but for those extra cans we might have floated for—well, put it down at as many days as you like.”
Fred Winter laughed, then added, “Joe Preston was going to see that it was full, and, of course——”
“Forgot,” finished Joe, not in the least disturbed. “Next time I’m going to sublet my contract. Hard work doesn’t agree—well say, Bob, what’s the matter—waves out there mountain high, or just a cloudburst?”
Then the whole story had to come out, and a ripple of mirth went around the room.
As the rescued boatman stood in the brightly-lighted interior of the house-boat, the four saw that he was a very good-looking young man of slight build. His refined speech and manner were in striking contrast to his worn and threadbare clothes.